Coffee
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: Once alone with Felicity, Oliver teaches her that 'coffee' means 'desk sex'.


"Are you sure about this?" There was a time for Felicity to ask Oliver if he was one hundred percent in favour of doing what they were doing. By the time his lips found her neck and his fingers slid up the hem of her shirt, one could assume his certainty went without saying. She isn't even too concerned with his sureness of anything; she's just nervous about the fact she's sitting on the edge of a table with her knees against his sides and her fingers having trouble keeping to themselves. "We could just have coffee instead of having, well, 'coffee'." That was what he'd told Diggle when he let him have the night off to be with Carly; no crime fighting that night, just coffee.

"Felicity," he sighs into her neck in a tone that says she has nothing to worry about. He knows that won't be enough, but instead of taking a second to reassure her of the fact that yes, he wants her, he continues letting his actions speak for themselves. His lips trail up her jawline slowly, her head rolling back as she let out a low purr before their lips meet, and he kisses her in a way that he would never kiss someone he didn't desire, filling it with the deep, burning flame she'd lit in him. Letting go of her waist, his hands instead slip down to her legs and start pushing her skirt up. If that isn't a declaration of intent then he isn't sure what is.

The bright, vibrant pink of her cheeks darken as his lips find hers again, her mind wandering too much as the little sensory indulgences of his proximity to her cloud her mind. The way his stubble feels against her face, the callouses on his fingers as they slide up her legs, the sight of his erection's bulge visible even in the loose pants he was working out in. When their kiss breaks, she speaks, against her better judgement. "I know, I know. You wouldn't have given Diggle the night off if you weren't, but I don't want one night of awkward sex to ruin things between us. N-not that I think you'd be bad at sex, I'm sure you're great at sex—no, not great, I mean th—well no, I'm not saying you're not great or anything, I just—ah!"

Felicity is speaking faster and more nervously than Oliver's ever heard before, and he doesn't have a great many solutions that would still be polite. He goes for the most hopefully successful strategy, which forgetting all about rolling her skirt up for the moment and just slipping his hand right between her legs. It works; as his strong fingers press into her mound through her panties, her legs tighten and she quits trying to recursively explain her previous stumble only to stumble again on the way there. "Oliver," she moans, her hands grabbing at his pants, forgetting he wasn't wearing jeans as her fingers try to grab at belt loops that aren't there. Their current place was something she'd imagined one or ten times too many, but she always imagined him wearing jeans.

"Don't worry about me," he says firmly. His hand stops teasing the front of her panties, instead grabbing them and trying to slip them off of her entirely. Her continued wearing of panties is counterproductive to his intentions. "But if you're having second thoughts, now would be a good time to tell me." The feeling of her hands against his waist makes him groan, and he can see the way she keeps looking down to his groin, rather fond of how her lip disappears between her teeth every time it drifts in that direction. "It's okay if you want to stop."

"Keep going," is all she says, a concerted effort to keep from embarrassing herself any further by rambling on about being ravished. Instead she focuses on getting his pants down, a task which grows harder as, with her permission secured, he eases her panties down and pushes one of his large, rough fingers into her. She gasps, legs clamping down tighter around his hand as she goes on to embarrass herself anyway. Her back arches forward, making her press up against Oliver and lamenting the fact she had her blouse on because it meant there was something between her and his muscular body.

With some difficulty she manages to get his pants down, hand fumbling for his cock and seizing it too eagerly for her to be happy with, but she's too gone to care by this point. She gets her hand firmly around it and starts tugging, eyes too busy being shut tight as he gently pushes her back into her original upright position by gently nudging her back with his head, rewarding her for it with more kisses along her neck. She wasn't even aware she enjoyed neck kisses so much; the last boy to give her so many was back in college and they weren't nearly as good. Oliver's were enough to make her melt on the spot, though she wondered how much of that was just Oliver himself.

His fingers are larger than hers and he probably has more strength in a single knuckle than she has in her entire hand, making the firm fingerfucking he's giving her quite the sensation. She tries her best to keep quiet, but quiet isn't her strong suit, so instead she angles her head and plants kisses all over his cheek, the occasional moan low and right near his ear, where she hopes her voice sounds smooth and sultry even if those aren't words she'd ever consider describing anything about herself with.

"Um, could we skip all of this and move on to the desk sex?" she blurts out, then laughs nervously. "I mean, this is great and all, but foreplay feels like something better suited for a bed than sex on a computer table in the basement beneath a night club. Sort of the place you'd just stick it in and—oh no I'm talking again. Why do I keep doing that? I really have to learn to shut my m—"

Fingering her isn't enough to shut her up, so Oliver goes for the most direct approach possible. He just plants his lips on hers for the duration of the change of position. He withdraws his fingers and gently eases her hand off his dick so that he can replace it with one of his own to help aim. The quim-slick digits press into her thigh and eases it away again, opening her legs back up for him. Then, his hand reaches down to grab her ass, a gesture that makes her giggle and squirm as he pulls her toward him. He needs her ass halfway off the table so that he can push all the way inside of her again and again.

Once his tip is up against her soaked entrance, he breaks the kiss again and presses his forehead into hers. "I guess we can skip ahead, though once we're done we could always find a bed to be a little slower on."

When he says that, her chest tightens, her cheeks go a deep maroon, and the only sound she can get out of her clenched throat is a shaky moan. It's all the confirmation he needs, and he decides to not leave Felicity hanging. The sooner they've finished, the sooner their night can really begin. His hands take her rear and the small of her back so that he can keep her upright, and then he rocks his hips forward slowly, the head of his cock gently opening her up. She's sopping wet and amazingly tight, and he doesn't want to ask her how long it's been for her but the ragged desperation spilling out of her mouth is either an answer of "too long" or one of the best compliments of his size he's ever received.

Once Oliver starts thrusting, Felicity is left with little to do. He's clearly taken her insistence on 'sticking it in' to heart, giving her something quick and dirty to tide her over. She hasn't a single complaint about how he's going at it as she reaches at the bottom of her shirt and starts undoing the buttons on her blouse. His lips are addicted to her neck and she'd rather like to incentivize the area as much as possible. It's a little hard to get the buttons open when he's fucking her, his regimen clearly doing wonders because he can move his hips faster than she expected, and it's not only shaking her body with each strong push but also making her too hot under the collar to focus on any task other than moaning and digging her fingers into his skin as hard as she can, as if it would even register for him.

Soon enough her blouse is open, and Oliver's hand is slipping up her back and encouraging her to lower herself further down. She does so, conscious of all the computer equipment she doesn't want to knock over, but once his head dips down into her cleavage she doesn't care what happens to it all as long as it's repaid. His tongue starts squirming in the space between her breasts and, upon seeing that she's wearing a very plain white bra, makes a note to find something sexier to wear on the assumption her impossibly hot boss decides to make this a regular occurrence.

Felicity's legs get around his waist in short order, her high heels long since kicked away as the balls of her heels dig a little too forcefully into the small of his back so that she can get as tightly around him as possible. In response the hand on her ass gets a little more familiar and gropey, which makes her purr and jerk a little bit. His lips at the tops of her breasts feel as good as they did at her neck, but she's able to watch him when he's that low down her upper body, and when his eyes peer up to meet hers she's worried she'll faint.

Oliver's heavy thrusts send shivers up her spine, and his low grunts grow louder as he gets progressively more worked up. Soon enough she's finding herself slipping off the desk little by little, his strong grasp supporting her as he fucks her without missing a beat. Then she's off the desk entirely, his hand is pulling her upright, and she finds herself being supported entirely by his arms as his hips rock with enough force that she's bouncing on his cock, his head buried in her cleavage. She has a million things to say, all manner of compliments and quippy remarks about how impressive it is, but she doesn't even have to try to keep them from spilling out because she finds her orgasm bearing down on her and nothing but sounds of total pleasure will come out.

Her body burns up as she makes some token effort to join into the motions, riding him as well she can as she moans and tosses her head about so hard her glasses fling off, and she feels so good that she doesn't care about going to fetch them. It's made so much better as, in the midst of her intense release, she feels him cum as well, his thick seed filling her and spreading warmth throughout. He groans, going rigid as she comes down one last time, before he falls back into a thankfully placed office chair.

It rolls back slightly as she sits in his lap, breathless as his head pulls out of her cleavage and he looks into her eyes. She may not be able to see, but she can make out what his gaze says just fine as she comes down a slower, more relaxed kiss.

Oliver doesn't need the breathing time, but it's clear Felicity does, so he lets her gather herself and just enjoys her closeness. The warmth of another and the feeling of their lips on his right after orgasm is reassuring for a man who spent so long isolated. That sort of genuine affection is something he'll never tire of.

When she's straightened herself out again, her fingers ran along the myriad of scars along his chest, finding that they do nothing to keep him from being eye candy she will gladly take out of the dish when she can. "Wasn't that a little bit intense for a quickie? Please say it isn't, because I'm really hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg."


End file.
